


Winter Roses

by emmaliza



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Backstory, F/M, Implied Incest, Vagueness, implied everything, subtext is my bff, what happens when ur theory isn't a theory so it's a fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-08 23:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6880063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you in love with him?”<br/>She looks away again. “I must be,” she mutters.<br/>He frowns. What does that mean?</p><p>Lyanna Stark is engaged to Robert Baratheon. She falls in love with Rhaegar Targaryen. Ned is... involved.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter Roses

**Author's Note:**

> So, first of all I'd like to apologise for besmirching our dearly departed Ned Stark. Also, wow, I didn't get overambitious for my first GoT fic at all.
> 
> Note: this relies a lot on book detail, but uh, I'm actually just a well-spoiled show watcher. So I could be wildly off in about a thousand different ways.

14.

He hates himself for it. He thinks of his House. He thinks of his family.

He tells himself he's doing it for her, that it's all pity. He tells himself it's a dream. That in the morning, it won't be real.

* * *

 

03.

They attend the tournament together, with Brandon – Ned hates it, he's always hated these, found them boring and pointless. What sort of fighting man spends his days play-acting for the snivelling Lords and Ladies of the court? Lyanna has a much more mixed opinion on the concept. She loves the spectacle and showmanship – she hates that she is expected to sit there and watch. He smiles as she twitches in her seat, cursing the knight who veered further left than she would have.

The royal family are there, of course. Ned cares little, but not in any sense that could be considered a problem. They are the King and his family, and House Stark is properly loyal. But Ned would be lying if he said he thought often of the King, day-to-day.

Ned hears it when Lyanna receives the laurel, he does not see it. She is sitting in front of him and her dark hair shields everything from sight, before she turns to look at him, as if checking it has really happened. The sound ripples out from her, and when it reaches those at the back who can't see a thing, it's deafening. In the middle is beautiful Lyanna, deathly silent.

In the other stand, Ned sees her – the Lannister girl, the one King Aerys rejected. All day she has been eyeing Princess Elia with contempt, and the smirk across her face is devastating. The Princess smiles serenely, as if nothing is wrong, but her eyes are wide with panic. The Lannister girl – Cersei, Ned thinks is her name – sits just a few inches too close to her brother. The sight of her makes Ned queasy.

* * *

01.

Their great return to Winterfell, after years away, is delayed – the horse broke its leg and had to be replaced (and of course, killed). This means they arrive in the middle of the night, which will not do – a messenger comes back telling them to camp outside until dawn, so the proper fanfare can be held.

News somehow got to Lyanna, and being Lyanna she's hardly likely to wait. Ned is half-asleep, but being kept awake by Brandon's snores, when he hears a rap on the carriage window. On instinct he reaches for his sword, until he sees a grinning face jump high enough to be seen, just for a second.

“Oi! Where have you been?”

“Lyanna?!” He rushes to open the door, but he's still trying to be quiet, terrified to wake anyone. “How did you get past the gate? Past the guards?”

She just smiles and shrugs, but the guards have never been able to deny her anything. No-one here has. “Can I come in? It's cold out here.”

He takes her by the hand and lifts her up the stairs, even though she could manage just fine on her own. He's surprised he doesn't receive a word on that.

“I hope you realise you're late,” she chides him. The carriage is really too small for the three of them, but she manages – Lyanna's grown almost as tall as him. He doesn't like being carted around in fancy carriages like this, he would have much rather ridden back, but Jon Arryn insisted. The man had come to love him and Brandon like a father, and it seemed cruel to refuse.

“Wasn't really under my control.” He tries not to think of that horse, the noises of shock and horror it made before the coachman grabbed a rock to put it out of his misery. The other three just stood there, wailing in sympathy.

“I suppose I can forgive you,” Lyanna says. “If you have enough good stories.”

“Maybe not when it's the middle of the night,” he grumbles, casting an eye over Brandon – still fast asleep, unaware of their sister's presence.

She huffs slightly. “Alright, fair enough. This was a little bit stupid of me.” He raises his brows at her. “Oh, don't be like that! Why don't you appreciate me for once?” Of course, they've not seen each other in years – he couldn't have appreciated her or otherwise. “I – I missed you.”

He can't help but smile. “I missed you to,” he says, because he hates dishonesty.

She was smiling anyway, but now she _beams_. She doesn't think to warn him before she embraces, she just leaps into his arms and expects him to keep up. It's hard to resent her for it. He has missed her in turn, and found himself talking about her far more than he ever expected – although that wasn't him after awhile, that was Robert, forever asking about her. For a man who hasn't even met his betrothed, he's still happier with the match than anyone Ned's ever known.

This carriage really is small, smaller than he would have thought Jon would send them off with. Perhaps in his head he still saw them as the children who arrived on his doorstep. Perhaps Lyanna sees that too. He leans in her embrace and knows they have both grown. He would much rather have ridden back.

Lyanna pulls away with a cough. “Of course, you weren't the only one I missed,” and on cue Brandon snores once more. Ned and Lyanna both laugh. “Oi, you, pay attention to your sister!” She reaches over to try and shake Brandon awake. It takes awhile.

Once he stirs, he looks at her bleary-eyed. “Lyanna?” He thinks this over. “...How the fuck did you get here?”

They all laugh.

* * *

 

02.

He expected to miss Robert. He doesn't really get the chance; Robert sets forth to meet Lyanna within the month. Back at Storm's End there is the boy, his youngest brother, who's still a child; as Lord Robert is expected to suddenly become his guardian and Ned can't think of anything that could suit Robert less than fatherhood.

Lyanna is considerably less excited than Robert is. Perhaps that – what Ned's told her about why he's coming – is one of the reasons. He keeps trying to talk to her, to make her fall in love with him like he somehow made him fall in love with her, but it never works. His words come out poisoned, and he's never been the romantic type – he can't bring himself to lie, not to Lyanna. He knows that on the face of it, Robert does not seem a good husband. But Robert is a good man, and he is desperately in love with her, and Ned doesn't know what else Lyanna wants.

Despite all he's said, all he's written, Robert still comes to Ned first. They embrace like boys – friends reunited. Ned is much happier to see him than Lyanna is.

Father had to force Lyanna to come to the procession. She's always hated these anyway, and this time she hissed, what did it matter if she missed the first hour, if she was going to spend the rest of her life with him anyway? She only gave in because Ned talked to her, because he told her fuck the politics, this was his friend, and he wanted to see him again without everyone being unable to talk about anything other than _where is Lyanna?_

But once she's there, she smiles and waits politely. Robert is patient until Father introduces him. Lyanna should be reassured – that level of propriety is basically unknown to Robert (see, this is how his words keep turning out). From her pink cheeks and dazzling grin, you would think she was utterly enchanted. Most women who meet Robert are. But Ned knows better, and it's very cold in Winterfell.

The week passes excellently – to all eyes, Lyanna and Robert seem to be getting along very well, spending hours talking and walking in the gardens. Lyanna hates just walking; she always wants to be doing something. Ned almost gets jealous that they take up so much of each other's time, though Robert makes sure to spar with him every night.

Once Robert leaves, Lyanna tells her father and her brothers all the right things – that he seems very nice, although she would like to get to know him better before the wedding. Father is very patient, but tells her not to leave it too long, in case the Baratheon dynasty gets a better offer (both Lyanna and her brothers pretend not to be offended by that). Ned knows he can't trust her, so he goes off to her chambers to ask her in private.

Still, he dares to be hopeful. “He's not that bad, is he?”

The tapestries the Septas leave for her every day remain untouched as always. Lyanna is silent, and Ned sighs. That's what she does when she wants to spare his feelings. It's rare that Lyanna Stark tries to spare anyone's feelings, but she does it for him. He pulls up a seat.

“What exactly is wrong with him?”

“I can't trust him.” Ned didn't expect an answer that quickly. “You've told me. He's a drinker and a womaniser. Not a description that fills me with confidence.”

Ned is disturbed to realise how much of this is his fault. “That's not what I – he's a young man.” Lyanna raises an eyebrow. She hasn't seen Ned even talk to a lady, nor drink a sip of wine. But then again she hasn't seen him in years. “He'll settle down after marriage. Men do.”

“For six months,” Lyanna says. “Then their wives' pregnancies get a little bit fragile and off they go...”

Ned is almost offended on behalf of his sex. And Robert. “He's desperately in love with you.”

“He's desperately in love,” Lyanna concedes. “But he barely knows me.”

Ned feels there's more to that sentence. Lyanna looks away and picks up her tapestry, which means she must really not want to look him in the eye. “He thinks I'm this perfect precious thing. Men always do.”

He can't say she's wrong. She has the perfect Northern look – ice pale skin, dark rich hair, slate eyes. Even when she was a child, Father brought so many men through their doors as potential suitors – ensnared by her beauty, and even what was said of her wild personality, but they were put off by the reality of it. She struggles with her tapestry – both for lack of practice and the fact she's not really paying attention.

“I'll disappoint him,” she mutters. “Any woman would. And I don't think he'll care much for me after I do.”

Ned frowns and leans in. She's still not looking at him, so he snatches the tapestry from her hands. He doubts she'll really mind. “Hey, look at me,” he tells her. She does. It's always been hard for Ned to put things into words, but this is almost impossible. “...I can't see any man ever being disappointed by you.”

It's not true and Ned hates himself for it. He hates lying. But it makes Lyanna smile. “Thank you,” she says. “But you are my brother. You have to say that.”

He doesn't have an answer. They just sit there, grey eyes meeting grey.

* * *

04.

The ride back from the tournament is painfully silent. The crown of roses still lies in Lyanna's lap, like she's afraid to move it (of course, she had to to get it into the carriage). She's always loved winter roses. Ned hopes this doesn't ruin them for her.

“You could always become his mistress, of course.”

“Father!” Lyanna is horrified. On instinct, Ned reaches for his sword – before he realises the man impugning his sister's honour is his own father. From the snarling look on his face, Brandon feels much the same.

“Don't look at me like that, sweet child. If you've attracted the attention of the heir to the throne, it would be a mistake not to take advantage–”

“To what, be his whore until he gets sick of me, then be burned to death like most Targaryen mistresses? No thank you.”

Father sighs. Ned reaches across and takes Lyanna's hand in his own. She doesn't look at him, but she doesn't pull away.

“Besides,” says Lyanna, regaining her composure. “I am already betrothed, aren't I?”

Father shrugs. “Most mistresses to kings have husbands. It's hard to be a woman who gets to meet the king without being married to a lord first. The lords always get promotions, and tend not to mind too much.”

“You don't know Robert,” Ned mutters. King or not, Robert would kill any man who lay a finger on his wife. Ned pulls his hand away, and the carriage returns to silence.

* * *

 

05.

He waits until they're home before he tries to talk to Lyanna alone. She's about to head up the stairs to her rooms before he catches her by the wrist.

“Are you alright?”

She looks bemused. “Why wouldn't I be alright?”

Ned sighs. He still doesn't know how to talk about this sort of thing. “Ignore Father,” he says. “He's always wanted to marry you off to any man who walks past.” It feels treacherous, because it's his father and of course Ned loves and respects him, and it's not like Father has been any crueller to Lyanna than any lord who wanted a good match for his daughter. In fact he's been kinder than most – Ned knows there have been men who asked for Lyanna's hand, those who asked far too early for one reason or another, and Father said no – he knew they would be bad to her. If Lyanna won't say she hates Robert, that's hardly Father's fault. But it also feels treacherous to blame Lyanna for it. “You won't have to play mistress to any man you don't want to.”

Lyanna sighs and slinks back down the stairs to face him. “I didn't think I would have to. Really, I'm not sure the prince is interested. It might have been just a stupid gallant gesture.” That strikes Ned as off. What exactly is gallant about saying another woman is more beautiful than your wife, right in front of her? “And besides, it... might not have been the worst thing in the world.”

That catches Ned off-guard. When he saw her she was horrified, and he can usually tell when she's acting for propriety's sake. “What do you mean?” he asks, monotone.

She sighs. “He was brave. And talented. And handsome.” He remembers how she cried when he sang. Something in his guts kicks at him. “In many ways, he's all I'd want in a husband. But he has a wife. And... he's a Targaryen.”

Ned still can't put anything into words properly. So he waits for Lyanna to finish.

“I wasn't joking about being burned to death,” she says, though she laughs while she says it. “I don't think I could trust a Targaryen. Although the way things are going, I'm not sure I can trust anyone.”

Ned cocks his head to the side. “What about me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Well yes, of course you; you're the most honourable man on the planet, Ned, that goes without saying.”

He's almost offended. “How can you say that, you've not seen me in years.”

“I remember you as a kid, you wouldn't kill a rat without giving it a weapon to defend itself with first.”

No-one makes him laugh like she does – very few people make him laugh. He remembers her as a child too – but she's not, they wouldn't have this problem if she were. Both of them look so much bigger, taller, stronger than last time they met. Sometimes it's hard to remember they're the same people at all.

(He starts to wonder if there's something suspect about them standing together in a dark corridor like this. He shakes the thought away. They're just _standing_.)

“I might have changed while I was away.”

She appears to think this over. “Hmm. No, don't think so.”

He laughs again. She smiles, but looks away, like some other thought has come to her. “If Rhaegar did want to make me his mistress...”

Ned can only half-follow. He doesn't know how this question ends, and he'd rather they were laughing together again.

“...What would you do?”

It should be harder to answer that than it is. “I'm your brother. I'd defend you.”

She looks skeptical. “You'd fight off the Kingsguard, for what? My honour?”

“Of course.” He pauses. “Fuck the king.”

Now she bursts out laughing. “Wow,” she says. “Maybe the Vale did change you.”

“Maybe.”

* * *

 

06.

Brandon becomes engaged to the Tully girl – none of them meet her before that. They aren't invited to the procession to meet her, but Lyanna, who hates these processions, whips Ned and Benjen out of bed at the crack of dawn to go spy.

Brandon and Catelyn seem quite taken with each other. Ned doesn't know this Catelyn, but he'd wager she's more honest than Lyanna was when she met Robert. Brandon takes off his cloak to wrap it around Catelyn's shoulders, and she smiles demurely as she thanks him. She looks like a Tully, all red hair and cheekbones.

“She's very beautiful,” Ned mutters, more accidentally than anything.

Benjen starts giggling, because he's just a kid. Ned knows he'll never hear the end of it. Lyanna looks at him, then pulls a face. “I don't like her.”

Ned sighs. “You've not even met her. Why?”

“Just look at her! She's so... _demure_.”

Of course. Lyanna has trouble with any girl who isn't as much of a problem as she is. Particularly because she actually ends up quite liking most of them after having a conversation with them, but not wanting to admit it for the sake of her pride.

“Do you like anyone?” Ned asks, just to tease her.

“I like lots of people! I like you.”

They get caught up in this bickering so much they don't notice when Brandon, Father and the Tully's start moving out of the courtyard and into the castle gates. Lyanna barely catches it in time and drags him away from the window so they can run back to their rooms and pretend they weren't spying. Benjen too, of course.

“If the other one looks like that, I might marry Ned to her as well,” he hears Father joking. Hoster Tully doesn't laugh.

* * *

 

07.

Robert visits again, but the spark for pretending seems to have gone out of Lyanna this time. She's as polite as she can manage, but she mostly ignores him in favour of the horses. He asks her to take him riding – quite unusual for a Lord to ask that of a Lady – and she tells him from what she's heard, he can do that perfectly well on his own.

Of course, Robert turns to Ned, asks him what he's done wrong, why has Ned's sister turned against him? Ned can't answer. He doesn't want to be dishonest, but it's not an honest question – Lyanna can't have turned against him if she was never in his favour in the first place. Ned really does not want to tell Robert that. So he offers up some hogwash about women and their moods. He wants to apologise the minute he says it.

On the last day of Robert's visit, Lyanna receives a raven. She's smart enough not to open it in front of Robert, but she does in front of her brothers, which is almost as bad.

Brandon vocalises his confusion much better than Ned ever could. “Since when do you get ravens?”

She makes an aggrieved noise. “People do write me letters. I do, in fact, have friends.”

“Who's it from?!” shouts Benjen, making a grab for it.

“None of your business!” Lyanna slaps him away, and Ned would dismiss it as their usual sibling bickering, except he sees Lyanna's hand _shake_.

Suddenly, more than anything he wants to know who wrote her that letter. But he can't just ask, and he could never steal the letter and read it behind her back – it wouldn't honourable.

* * *

 

08.

He catches her praying beneath the Weirwood trees, and it surprises him. He's never known his sister to be the praying type.

“Hello,” he says, and she jumps.

“What are you doing here?!” she asks, which is odd, given he is the praying type.

“Same thing you are.” They fall into an awkward silence. “What are you praying for?”

“If I tell you, it won't come true.”

He laughs. “Prayers don't work quite like wishes.”

“Don't they?”

He grumbles. He knows she is like this, but he doesn't like Lyanna to cast aspersions on their faith (Southerners will do that for them, they don't need to join in). “You don't do this very often, do you?”

Mother and Father were careful to bring them to the Weirwood trees once a week at least. There were no Weirwood trees in the Vale, but Ned made sure to pray under a tree once a week all the same. Lyanna, since mother died, seems to have done no such thing. It doesn't anger Ned, but it does raise the question, “why now?”

Lyanna doesn't answer that – she's sparing his feelings again. Ned has to think his way around it, and he's never been the sort of man who thinks his way out of problems. “Are you trying to get out of your marriage?”

“...In a way. Maybe. I'm not sure.” That takes him by surprise. Lyanna will answer boldly or she won't answer at all, but that sort of half-answer isn't like her. What is she not telling him?

“You could just tell Robert you don't want to marry him,” he mutters.

“What would that accomplish?” she asks. “Father would insist on it anyway. He – Robert – wouldn't just let me go. He'd be convinced he could win me over. At best.”

Ned frowns. “At worst?”

“He'd presume because I don't love him back, I don't deserve the chance to love anyone else.”

“Robert's not like that.”

“Well why don't _you_ marry him then?”

Ned rolls his eyes, but is left pondering it. Robert wouldn't hurt Lyanna for rejecting him, would he? He's brash, jealous even, but not spiteful. Her rejection would kill him long before it would kill her.

Ned thinks some more. No, he wouldn't hurt her. But he would hurt any man she chose over him – he'd be convinced that she had been stolen, that eliminating the competition would win her back to his side, make her fall in love with him, like the Gods – Old and New – intended.

He takes her hand again.

“What are you doing?”

“Praying.”

So they pray together. Ned can't say what he prays for, only that he feels his sister's veins pulsing against his, and here underneath the Weirwood trees he feels something strong. It doesn't feel quite right. It scares him a little.

Lyanna grips his hand tightly, but when he lets go she gets up without a word. She walks off so quickly she doesn't notice when a blue rose falls from her dress and onto the snow.

* * *

 

09.

“Ned, we need to talk.”

It's odd to have Brandon knocking on his door first thing in the morning. At first, he assumes it's some childish prank, but when Brandon bursts in he knows it's serious. “Sorry I had to wake you. I couldn't risk the servants overhearing.”

Ned sits up in bed, curious, as Brandon comes to sit at his feet. In his hands he has a letter – rolled but unsealed, so Brandon must have already read it, but wanted to disguise the fact. So it can't be a letter for him then.

“What is that?” asks Ned, because a broad question is likely the quickest route to the full story.

Brandon sighs. “A letter. For Lyanna. From Rhaegar Targaryen.”

He passes it to Ned, who unfurls it with a frown. He brushes past the words (Prince Rhaegar's handwriting is, like they teach in King's Landing, beautiful and cursive, and completely fucking unreadable). What does draw his attention is at the end – a drawing, absolutely exquisite, of a blue winter rose surrounded by Targaryen flame.

His heart leaps somewhere near his throat. Rhaegar is writing like this to his Lyanna, his sister; he has taken an interest, and surely she must know, what is she going to do–

“How did you get this?” he asks, to stop the questions swallowing his mind whole.

“I noticed she was waking early to lurk around where the ravens land. I woke earlier to beat her there,” Brandon explains. Ned had noticed the same, but didn't want to pry into his sister's affairs (or feared he had pried too much into his sister's affairs). “What are we to do?”

Ned had no idea. Once he squints, he can make out some of the words. _The dragon fears it will die of heat if it never sees you again. I think only of your ice-white skin covered in blue roses. You were not only the most beautiful woman at Harrenhal, you are the most beautiful woman who has ever been, and I will start a thousand wars if that is what it takes to make that fact known..._

“Do you know if she's written back to him?”

Brandon is affronted. “Of course not! I mean, of course she hasn't written back to him!” But he was right the first time – how could he possibly know? “You really think Lyanna would encourage this – this lunatic's interest?”

Ned hesitates. _In many ways, he's all I'd want in a husband_. And for all they say about the Targaryens, he's never heard anyone call Rhaegar a lunatic before. No-one seems to call him anything but gallant, kind and brave. A few times in their more unbidden moments, he's heard drunken lords say how good it would be if the Mad King would just die, and his son could take over. Yet all this and Ned still cannot trust this man with his sister. But he doesn't know he trusts his sister with this man.

“No, of course not,” he lies and bites his tongue. What is it about his sister that makes him lie? “But if she won't write back... what can we do?”

Brandon sighs. “Talk to her. Support her. Tell her we understand, it's not her fault.”

Ned nods. He agrees, absolutely. “And if he doesn't settle for just writing letters?”

Brandon doesn't have a good answer. He falls silent. Ned does though.

He'll go to war if he has to.

* * *

 

10.

He finds Lyanna in her apartments, tapestry discarded as ever on the table. She's staring out the window, and round her fingers she wraps the stem of a blue winter rose, not caring for the thorns.

He coughs, and she looks up with a smile. “Ned!” she says. “You didn't find a letter for me this morning, did you? I was expecting one.”

Ned swallows. “No.”

“Oh.” Her smile falters, but only slightly, and she returns to staring out the window. She is so beautiful when she smiles, and it's hard to blame the prince for falling in love. Ned hates lying to her. He hates lying. But now it's hard to believe Brandon when he says there's no way she would want to write back. Something is kicking in Ned's guts again.

“I lied.”

That draws her attention. She looks bemused. “Since when do you lie?”

 _Since I returned to Winterfell_. “Brandon found the letter. From Rhaegar Targaryen. He showed it to me this morning.”

Lyanna gulps. “Did you read it?” She isn't smiling anymore.

“Parts of it.” Insulting her beloved's handwriting does not seem like a good idea right now.

“How could you do that to me?!”

He has a good excuse – that Brandon brought him the letter, so it was hard not to read it. He doesn't use it. “Didn't you think we had a right to know?”

“No.”

“Of course. The heir to the Iron Throne is obsessed with you, and that concerns no-one but yourself.”

“If I'd wanted you to know, I'd have told you.”

She's staring out the window again, and he has to walk up to it to make her look him in the eye once more. “I don't want to blame you, Lyanna. I want to help.”

“I know you do,” she mutters. “But it's not what you think.”

 _It's not what you think I think_. His guts are kicking and squirming, but at least he can be honest with her about something. “I know, I saw from your smile.” She turns back to him, perplexed. He takes the rose from her hand. It is an incredible flower. Sometimes he saw them in the Vale – in gardens, or in flower stalls, but not often because they are damn near impossible to grow down south – and they always reminded him of her. “Are you in love with him?”

She looks away again. “I must be,” she mutters.

He frowns. What does that mean?

She looks back. “I am.”

Ned sighs. He feels like all his breath's been kicked out of him. “Alright. But you can't marry him. He's already married. You're engaged to Robert.”

“Yes, I know, Ned, alright? I know we're both marrying other people and living on opposite ends of the country and we'll probably never see each other again, and I know he'd get sick of me after six months anyway, but I love him. I love him. Let me have this Ned, please.”

And then something he hasn't seen in years happens. She starts to cry.

It's not the big wailing tears of childhood. It's silent, practically unnoticeable, and she turns to hide them from him. He reaches out to try and wipe them away, but he stops himself. He doesn't know why he stops himself.

“...Very well,” he says, no idea if he's saying the right thing. “If you love him that much there's nothing I can do.”

“Thank you,” Lyanna whispers, and Ned starts to walk away. He's done something wrong – he's not dissuaded her from something so stupid; he's attacked and shamed her for it; he's done both. The frustration overwhelms him and it turns – as he always swore it would never – into spite.

“I read the letter,” he tells her. “All he talks about is your beauty. He doesn't know you any better than Robert does.”

 _That's_ what he leaves the conversation on, not his words of acceptance. He hates himself for it. But her silence tells him its true.

* * *

 

13.

“Lyanna what are you doing here?”

* * *

 

11.

He goes to the Weirwoods to pray. He still does not know what he's praying for – he's always hated people who think of prayer like that, who think they can order off the Gods like they would a baker or fishmonger, that if they just sit under a tree and say what they want they are entitled to it. That's not what prayer means. And yet, Ned knows he is praying for something. He feels like the trees are watching him.

So what is it he wants? Does he want Robert to marry Lyanna? Yes of course, he is her rightful betrothed and it would break his heart if she ran off with some other man. Besides, he loves them both, and knows them marrying is his best chance at seeing them both more than twice in the rest of his life. Robert and Lyanna marrying is all well and good, apart from the inconvenient detail that Lyanna doesn't want to do it.

And really, why should she? Ned can't see her married to Robert. He can't see her married to anyone, not even Rhaegar Targaryen. Would she marry Rhaegar, if he asked? Could she? Of course not, the prince is married, but he knows the Targaryens have had many wives before. Too long ago for it to seem 'legal', but he is the crown prince. He doubts the Mad King would tell his firstborn son he has more wives than is allowed.

But Lyanna seems smarter than that – she's not planning to run off with Rhaegar, she just wants to write to him. It's a fleeting fancy because she's nervous about her upcoming marriage. The prince will tire of her, princes do, and she'll settle into wedded life. Ten years from now she and Robert will be happy together, with children, and she'll laugh when she remembers she hated him so much she thought she was in love with the Mad King's son. Something kicks in Ned's guts again.

But what if Rhaegar doesn't tire of her? What if she tires of him first? What if that Targaryen rage comes out when he learns she's rejected him in favour of her own husband? Robert wouldn't let him just take her, but even Robert, with all his sword with a skill, would be nothing compared to the might of the King's army. Then what?

Ned said he'd go to war with the king to defend Lyanna if he had to. And he will. But he does not want to – politics is beyond him. He just wants her to stay, where he can be her brother and look out for her.

(He wasn't able to do that for years. But it bothers him now.)

The Weirwoods are watching him again. He prays. He doesn't know what for, but he prays and he prays and he prays.

* * *

 

12.

Robert wants to marry Lyanna. It's been almost a year since the engagement but he wants to marry her now, because his brother Stannis has become engaged to some woman or other and Robert cannot bear the thought of his younger brother beating him to anything. Perhaps that is what sets Lyanna dead against it – that Robert will marry her to win some childish contest.

Father tells her the news – that Robert is riding north, he plans to marry her before the Weirwood trees and return her to Storm's End before the week is out – and Lyanna smiles. “Alright Father.” Benjen jumps up and down in excitement. Brandon embraces her and pretends not to cry. But Ned looks at her and he knows.

He catches her before she manages to run off to her rooms again. “Robert loves you,” he tells her. “No matter how much you hate him – promise me you won't do this to him.”

Lyanna smiles sadly, and reaches out to caress his cheek. He pulls away. “I don't hate Robert,” she says.

But she runs off, and doesn't promise him anything.

* * *

 

16.

He wakes to find his father pacing back and forth. Benjen is crying, and Brandon has his arms wrapped around his brother's shoulders. Ned still feels ill, still feels like he's dreaming, and he doesn't say a word. He waits for them to explain.

Father looks up at him and Ned knows he's been crying. “Lyanna's missing.”

It doesn't make sense to him. Words don't seem to do what they're meant to anymore. On the windowsill lays a single blue rose. Nobody notices it but him. The word keeps running through his head. _Goodbye_.

“What do you mean missing?”

* * *

 

17.

He sits on the cobbled steps to the Tower of Joy with the babe in his arms. Howland keeps watch for any spare Targaryen men, and pretends not to notice Ned's sobs. The child makes no such pretenses, and cries along with Ned, though a great deal louder. They need to move soon and find a wet-nurse in the nearest village – they can hardly feed the child themselves. He's a healthy boy, which would be a relief if it weren't so frightening. Howland tried to suggest it might be best if the boy were left to die. He didn't get to finish that sentence.

The boy looks nothing like Rhaegar Targaryen. He's Stark through and through, but he doubts that will convince Robert in any way. _Promise me, Ned_ , Lyanna told him. She was too ill to speak, but he knew what she meant. She didn't trust Robert. And after months of battle, Ned doesn't either.

“Ned,” Howland mutters to him. Ned looks up. “We should move.”

They should. They both know the risks of being out here in the bare field, especially with the child. They need to find the next village. Ned stands, but it just makes the boy start crying louder, probably announcing their position to anyone within the next five miles.

Despite himself, Ned can't help but laugh. “Whiny thing, aren't you?”

The boy gurgles along, like he thought that was a very funny joke too. Howland smiles. “So then, I suppose that's your bastard?”

Ned looks into the babe's slate grey eyes.

“I suppose so.”

* * *

 

15.

“I just came to say goodbye, Ned.”

He lays there, half-sick, half-asleep. He can't look at her and the words don't register. The door swings shut. She leaves and he doesn't say goodbye.

* * *

 

18.

A year later he's invited to court. Robert wants him to meet his new wife, apparently, although the second the introductions are finished he ignores her in favour of whores. She pretends either not to notice or not to mind. It's the Lannister girl, Cersei, the one King Aerys rejected. She became queen after all. She seems proud of her station, but not exactly content.

Rob and Jon are left behind at Winterfell, with Catelyn. They're just babies. Catelyn promised him Jon would be safe with her even though he never asked. He's fallen in love with her. Their marriage would be perfect if she would only forgive him.

Cersei is as charming to him as she is to everyone, but Ned mistrusts charm. Robert holds a great feast, which he disappears halfway through, and bored and lonely Cersei muses if the men here are all too scared to ask the Queen to dance. Ned takes the hint, and her hand, and she smiles courteously at him for it.

Across the room is her brother, resplendent in white, head of the Kingsguard, ready to stab any man in the back if need be. He watches, hand fixed to the hilt of his sword, as Ned waltzes his sister.

They spin, and Cersei looks to her brother. She smiles at him, before she turns back to Ned.

He looks at her back. Once more, she makes him feel ill.


End file.
